


The Cheering Section

by youdbefuntomurder



Category: The Boondock Saints RPF, The Walking Dead (TV), Walking Dead RPF
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bets & Wagers, Coercion, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking Games, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, M/M, Party, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3411617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdbefuntomurder/pseuds/youdbefuntomurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For twd-kinkmeme prompt <a href="http://twd-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/5396.html?thread=8040724#t8040724">http://twd-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/5396.html?thread=8040724#t8040724</a><br/>Andrew Lincoln gets invited to Sean Patrick Flanery's Super Bowl Party - it's one he'll never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bet's a Bet

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [kink-meme prompt](http://twd-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/5396.html?thread=8040724#t8040724)
> 
> Not sure why I am filling this - RPF isn't usually my jam, and I hate football... I was actually calling it 'tip off' until 5 minutes ago when someone said that's basketball ... oops. I hope it still hits on what the prompter wanted, with me not having done any research and just using these guys like paperdolls. 
> 
> *provide me with team information, who cheers for what and i'll work with that - but i can't research football, i just can't.

Something was up.... out of the blue, Sean Patrick Flanery had called him up and invited him to his Super Bowl party, and practically begged him to come. Andrew had tried to beg off, insisting American football didn't hold much interest for a Brit like himself but thanks ever so much for the invite; that's when Sean had pleaded that it was some sort of surprise for Reedus and how disappointed their friend would be if he couldn't make it.

He really didn't have any other plans that Sunday... Sean actually whooped in triumph on the other end of the line when he acquiesced by asking if there was anything he should bring. 

"Yeah, grab a six pack of whatever fancy imported beer it is you like to drink and bring it with you; unless you are good with Guinness? Got plenty of Guinness to go around." With his mission accomplished, Sean spoke in a rush about looking forward to seeing him then, and Andrew was left with the dial tone blaring in his ear before he could get a word in edgewise to ask for directions to Sean's place - assuming that's where he planned to have this stupid ‘bowl party’. 

Something about the Irish-American's energy always put Andrew off. The man was rude and brash, but he was also charismatic with an easy welcoming smile; he couldn’t say what exactly it was about Sean that always put his hackles up, but then he didn’t spend much time pondering over it.

\---

When Sunday rolled around, he showed up at Norman’s place a full hour before the internet said “kick off” was, planning to hitch a ride to Sean’s with him. If Norman had already gone, he’d give Sean’s number exactly one try, and if he didn’t get through… he’d merrily consider himself off the hook.

Though Norman was clearly surprised to find Andrew on his doorstep, he greeted his friend warmly and invited him in for a drink. They spent a good half-hour shooting the breeze, each nursing a beer while chatting about the upcoming week's scheduled shoots; before Norman apologized that he was going to have to run -he had somewhere to be. 

"About that - Sean invited me to the party and I thought I'd just grab a ride with you, if that's alright." Andrew could kick himself, as he'd said the words he'd recalled Sean mentioning some kind of surprise for Reedus, and by the flummoxed look on Norman's face he might have ruined it.

In a surprised and, if a Andrew didn't know better, horrified squeak, Norman questioned, "He invited _you?!_ "

Puzzled Andrew scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "Yeah, sounded like a good time. ... Is that going to be ok?" 

Norman nodded and grumbled something that sounded like "yeah. sure. fine." Keeping his eyes averted while he locked up and headed for the car with Andrew in tow. 

"I guess i just can't believe you wanted to..." Norman broke the silence but kept his eyes fixed on the road as he guided the car through traffic towards Sean's.

"Well, normally it's not my thing." Norman made an odd noise at that, but Andrew continued, "Sean seemed adamant, and it sounded like a chance for us to have some fun." Norman coughed and shot him a strange look, and Andrew realized that somehow, as innocuous as what he'd thought he said was, it was affecting his friend strangely; better to just stick a sock in it for now. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the short journey to Sean's.

\---

Sean greeted them with what could only be described as ‘a shit eating grin’ on his face, surprised to see Andrew with Norman but not at all perturbed that his surprise had been ruined. He picked up a small bundle of colorful cloth from a nearby table and threw it at Norman, "Go on and put that on."

Norman took a closer look at the bundle he was holding and groaned, "Fuck, man. Really?!"

"Hey, look around. _All_ of my guests have arrived, but there's still time for me to invite more - I tell 'em about a _special_ halftime show we're gonna have right here and I bet they come a runnin'." Norman shot Sean a poisonous glare, but turned, shoulders sagging, and tromped off towards what Andrew assumed was a guest bedroom to change.

He turned to Sean in confusion, nothing about this was what he'd expected - and the guests were all there? As far as he could tell, he and Norman were the only two there. Before he could ask, Sean winked at him and led him into a very comfortable entertainment room with a wide leather couch and massive flat screen TV, pool table, full bar, and multiple game systems. 

Sean proudly pulled a Guinness from the tap mounted in his bar and passed it to Andrew, smiling smugly if not conspiratorially, "Reedus was here last week, shooting his mouth off about how his team was going to dominate mine: how we were going to get spanked, yadda yadda. I told him it'd never happen, but they were doing pretty well against my boys so he bet me they'd _go all the way_." 

Andrew let Sean continue uninterrupted, hoping the story's relevance would come to light soon. "Well, our boy in there, you know how he can run his mouth, he said my team blows, I said something like, ‘yeah, and you can blow me when they win.’ He said he'd happily blow me AND whoever else I wanted because no way his team was going to lose. Well, a bet's a bet, and my team won."


	2. In Uniform

Andrew sat in stunned silence. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. Norman was going along with this? He felt a tightening in his jeans at the thought of that. Norman on his knees...

"God damn, I wish I could've seen his face when you told him you were coming. Ha! When you asked him for a _ride!_ " Sean doubled over in laughter, clearly finding the innuendo hysterical.  Andrew sputtered, cringing as he recalled Norman's reaction to his words in the car. _'Not normally my thing... sounded like a chance for us to have some fun.'_   Oh god. Norman thought he'd turned up looking for a ride to... this, whatever this was, and hadn't turned him away.

"Look, this is messed up. A bet's a bet, sure, but forcing him to..." blushing furiously Andrew forced himself to continue, delicately: "...fellate you and your friends... that's not.. That's just-" He was at a loss- was it sick? was it wrong? If it was, why was he so god damn hard and why wasn't Norman kicking up more of a fuss?

 "Oh get over it. Like Norman's never sucked a dick before. Hell, it won't even be the first time he's sucked _mine_. He wagered he'd blow whoever I wanted him to if my team won, so considering I only invited one other person to the party, I'm going pretty damn easy on him."  

Andrew was shocked by what he'd just heard. The visual of Norman kneeling in front of Sean, sucking him for all he's worth, sprang to mind and refused to leave. His already hard cock began to positively throb at the idea that the imagined visual could become a reality for him to witness in the next few minutes.  "Why the hell did you invite _me_? What made you think I would want in on this depravity?"

Sean glanced at the tent in his pants and laughed derisively before he answered, " 'cause you don't like me very much."

"So what? This is your idea of male bonding? We're going to be best mates after this?"

Sean's level of amusement seemed to directly correspond with Andrew's ire, "I'd be surprised if this didn't bring us at least a tiny bit closer, but actually what I meant was: _that_ is how I knew you would be interested. I get along with everybody - I'm an easy guy to get along with, and likeable." Andrew gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "The people who can't stand me tend to be the people who are jealous of me for one reason or another, and seeing as I’m a betting man… I’d lay odds that you're jealous of how close Reedus and I are. You think of him as your best friend, but you're not his _only_ ‘best’ friend - I bet when I roll into town it feels like he forgets all about you. He and I… we've got history, and without a time machine _you_ can't compete with that."

Andrew frowned at the assessment... The very accurate fucking assessment. Yeah, he'd never pondered it too deeply before, but everything Sean had just said rang true.

"Don't worry man, it's like this: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Instead of getting all bent out of shape when he wants to hang with me, come with. Consider this an open invitation. Mi casa es su casa."

"Still don’t see how that translate to you thinking I would want him to give me head?”

Sean gave his lap another pointed look, and Andrew suppressed the urge to throttle him. “Who in their right mind would say no to head from Reedus?”  … the man had a point.

“Is this what you do then? When you ‘hang out’? Is this the so called ‘history’ you were referring to?” Andrew still thought it sounded too much like some kind of set up. Or some kinky lifestyle he was unaware of, that he was about to get dragged into, dressed up to sound like a bet, but really just an excuse to-

“You’re overthinking it.  He talks shit, I shut him up with my dick. If he really hated it, he’d learn to keep his mouth shut.”

Andrew was about to insist that he wouldn’t take part in forcing Norman to blow them, bet or no bet - being pressured into giving a blow job sounded too much like rape to him, but that was the moment Norman finally rejoined them, blushing from head to toe and wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts with a team’s logo emblazoned on them.

“Aw great! Our cheerleader has arrived!”

“Fuck you.” Reedus grumbled listlessly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sean laughed and tugged Norman into a quick hug, and giving him a brotherly thump on back, before shoving him towards the bar. “There’s snacks and shit over there, plate it up and serve me and my guest. Refill our drinks when they get low, and be attentive to our… _needs_.”

Andrew was staring at Norman from his place on the couch, the other man’s head was bowed in chagrin and he looked ready to throw the entire bowl of chips at Sean, but despite his silent seething - he moved to prepare the dip to go in the center of the platter, grumbling: “This wasn’t the deal.”

“Naw, but I thought this would be… less of a bitch. Like I said, I kept the guest list small, but I’ve got a phone full of contacts if you’d rather...”  Sean trailed off, holding up his empty glass and waving it at Norman, who was quick to refill it, which was answer enough to the unfinished question.

Andrew startled when Sean unmuted the big screen, the game was just starting, but he really couldn’t give a shit. This was all too weird. His head was spinning with the implications.  Norman was going to blow Sean. Probably right here in front of him… No, they’d go into a room, wouldn’t they? Surely they wouldn’t … but then, Norman was supposed to suck him off too and Sean would want to see he wasn’t getting cheated, because it was just the sort of chivalrous thing for Andrew to do  - jerk off and give Norman the credit so he wouldn’t be forced to… oh this was sooo messed up, but his cock seemed to be loving every second of it.

Norman was back in seconds, trying to hand the Guinness to Sean over the back of the couch, but Sean just glanced over his shoulder at him, “You think I gave you something pretty to wear and don’t expect you to show it off? If you are just going to hide behind the couch, you might as well take ‘em off altogether.” 

Andrew was surprised to see the rush of color spread across Norman’s chest and cheeks; he wouldn’t have thought the other man could blush any harder than he already had been, but he’d have been wrong. Norman carefully walked around the couch and came to a stop in front of Sean, who despite his words - seemed to only have eyes for the big screen, until Norman was eclipsing his view.  Without a glance, Sean grabbed Norman by the hip and tugged him down on his lap so he was no longer blocking his view.

Andrew was torn between feeling sorry for his friend’s predicament and being unutterably amused and turned on by what was happening before him.  Norman’s expression at being forced onto Sean’s lap was more comical than piteous, and the thought of having Norman in his own lap was incredibly arousing to Andrew.

After a moment, Sean took the proffered glass from Norman’s hand and savored a long swig from it, refusing to be jostled when Norman tried to take the opportunity to struggle up off his lap. Andrew was impressed that not a drop was spilled during their little skirmish, and that Sean seemed to be able to exert his will on Norman without uttering a word. Reedus gave up in short order, and sat with dejected annoyance awaiting Sean’s next command, pointedly not looking in Andrew’s direction.

“Be glad I’m not making you do any cheers.”  Norman huffed at that, but for once wisely kept his mouth shut.  Somehow, Andrew imagined that being forced to do a cheer routine for Sean’s favored team, in those boxers, would be harder on the man than sucking them both off.

Norman was clearly trying to pretend Andrew wasn’t there witnessing his humiliation, but Sean was having none of it - he destroyed any illusion by engaging Andrew in conversation.

“Looks good, don’t he? Supporting a winning team for once.” Sean said with a playfully exaggerated accent, chuckling smugly as Norman visibly bristled, grinding his teeth.

Andrew had to admit to himself that his friend did look good.  He wasn’t gay by any stretch, but he wasn’t blind to the beauty of a well sculpted male form - Norman worked on his physique and it showed. The garish boxers hung below his trim waist, hugging his sharp hip bones and accentuating the flat stomach and chiseled abs. His strong shoulders looked all the more broad in contrast to his tapered waist.

The boxers weren’t nearly as cruel as Andrew would have expected from Sean - hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Sean had given Norman an actual cheerleading costume to change into - or at least the pleated skirt.  The boxers could have been much worse than they were, but were surprisingly tasteful - as much as fan apparel ever could be.  A moderate length, and a reasonable fit - not tight or skimpy or ill fitting like hot pants; the idea that Flanery actually identified what was relatively tasteful, and selected it, was what really shocked Andrew.

Clearly Sean set out to make Norman miserable today, and yet he’d given him a relatively decent pair of shorts to wear ...when he could have put him in a cringe-worthy team-themed banana hammock. It made a certain amount of sense, this party was all about making Norman squirm, not them.  The boxers were revealing enough without being outright pornographic.

Failing to draw Andrew into conversation, Sean shoved Norman off his lap to land sprawled partially on the floor and partially in the Brits lap. He didn't stay down for more than a second, but in that second Andrew knew Norman had gotten a close-up eyeful of the erection he was sporting.

Andrew grimaced as Norman sprang quickly to his feet and did an about face, carefully avoiding eye contact with either of them as he retreated to the bar. He kept hearing his own words from the ride over and how Norman must have interpreted them. _'Sounded like a chance for us to have some fun.'_  He'd meant goofing off, drinking and watching a game (a game he had little interest in, but still...) Not _this_.

But then he recalled Norman's strange reaction to finding out he'd been invited and he'd asked him if it was ok, and Norman had said it was. Andrew rehashed their earlier conversation with his new, 'enlightened' perspective and realized that if Norman had been under the impression that Andrew knew what was up this whole time, then he'd thought Andrew was specifically asking if he was alright with blowing him ...and Norman had said yes.

His co-star was back with a platter of sandwiches, and Andrew could tell by his slight hesitation and anxious shifting, that Reedus was itching to do something to aggravate Sean in retaliation, but the desire was at war with his instinct for self-preservation which undoubtedly had him thinking he'd be better off not doing anything to draw attention to himself. 

Norman bent to place the tray on the low table before them, but froze when Sean said, "At first down, you go down."  


	3. Forced Fumble and Offensive Holding

Had the circumstances been different, Andrew was pretty sure he still wouldn't have been able to concentrate on the game. American 'football' seemed needlessly complicated and there were too many rules for him to wrap his head around.

Rugby he could get behind, but this - well, in fairness, there was no way anyone could pick up the gist of a game this intricate with their attention so split. He couldn't focus on what was happening on the screen when much more interesting things were set to kick off in this very room.

He wasn't sure when first down would be, or what it even was, but he'd acknowledged to himself that ever since Flanery's announcement, it's all he could think about.

Norman stepped in front of him and bent forward, reaching for him, startling him from his reverie. Had he missed it? He thought for sure the obnoxious commentators would have mentioned it during their incessant prattling... He stared up at Norman standing over him and just between his knees, and felt as if he were having an out of body experience.

Panicked, Andrew grabbed Norman’s wrist, both halting him and pulling him slightly off balance. His co-star gave him a confused look and it was then that he noticed Norman's hand hadn't gone anywhere near his belt; instead he'd reached to pluck the mostly empty glass of Guinness out of Andrew's grip before he'd been stopped.

When Andrew's brain finally caught up, he realized Norman had just been dutifully getting him a refill. Embarrassed, he quickly let his friend go, and Norman straightened quickly and went the long way around the couch, careful to give Sean a wide berth. 

"Eager?" Sean chuckled, in a low voice, "and here I thought I'd have to get the ball rolling by going first. You want 'first down'?"

" _I don't know what that bloody is!_ " Andrew hissed, hoping to god that Norman couldn't hear them over the noise from the TV.

"Reedus!" Sean barked his name like an order, and Andrew heard disgruntled muttering from behind the bar. "Come on! All this talk of tight ends and ball handling has your limey friend hot and bothered, get in here and do your fucking job!"

There was a clatter and wet noise followed by a string of expletives behind them. Clearly Norman was no more prepared for the advancing of the timetable than he was. He hissed at Sean, shaking his head frantically to call him off, but Flanery's smile only grew wider, "You can clean up whatever shit that was later! Throw a towel over it and get  your ass over here _now_!"

Norman came around the couch and stood just beyond the table, nervously giving them a once over while waiting for instructions.

Sean spread his knees wide and kicked out with one leg, pushing the table further away, and knocking it into Norman's knee before gesturing for Norman to come stand between his legs. Andrew watched with rapt attention as the scene unfolded before him.

When Norman was standing bracketed by Flanery's knees, Sean snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground. Like a well trained dog responding to a command, Norman placed his hands on Sean's knees and levered himself down to kneel between them, keeping his eyes averted the entire time.

Sean breathed an exaggerated sigh that expressed his displeasure, but Norman still kept his face turned away. "Here, hold this." He nudged Andrew's arm with his half-full glass of Guinness, prompting the Brit to take it from him.

Andrew was stunned when Flanery used his newly freed hand to slap Norman across the face with a resounding crack, bringing his other hand up swiftly to grab him by the hair at the back of his head, preventing him from toppling over while wrenching his head back forcing him to meet his eyes.

The sudden violence shocked Andrew with both its abruptness and how it made his dick twitch in reaction. Maybe even more shocking, Norman had flinched and hissed at the sudden sharp pain he was dealt, but didn’t make any moves to retaliate for the harsh treatment or free himself from Sean’s grasp. He’d just frozen, eyes locked with Sean’s - as if hypnotized by a predator; his breathing slightly ragged.

Andrew found it intensely erotic ...and intimate, and he felt all the more awkward for being witness to it. A touch of guilt gnawed at him for the visceral response he’d had to seeing Norman’s head snap to the side - and the wince when his hair had been pulled tight.  He felt like this wasn’t right, and yet he was harder than he’d ever been before in his life.

He felt like he should step in... Sean had crossed a line, if Norman was a woman he’d already have laid Sean out for raising his hand to her, but Norman most decidedly _wasn’t_ a woman and could fend for himself… and yet, he was still kneeling there. He’d hands remained placidly on Sean’s knees as if he hadn’t just been struck.

Andrew was fairly sure that Norman would not be pleased if he came to his rescue like he was some kind of damsel in distress. He suspected the slap was louder than it was hard - meant to startle more than harm; regardless, Andrew didn’t think he could sit here and keep quiet if Sean became truly abusive.

"You're making poor Andrew over there feel bad. You've got him all worried about you with this virgin act. I know you're nervous, first time with an audience and all, but you're going to have to knock that shit off if you don't want him to leave here feeling like a rapist." Norman flinched and glanced contritely at Andrew, who knew he must be white as a ghost with shock, but was also ready to step in and pull Sean off his friend in a moment.

"Tell him whose idea this was."

"Your-" Norman broke off with a wince when Sean shook him roughly by his handful of hair.

"Try again! All I said was that you could blow _me_ when my team won. And what did you say?" When Norman just glared at him, Sean continued,  "You're the one who volunteered to spend the day on your knees. Isn't that right?"

Norman didn't look too chuffed when he was forced to admit it. "Tell Andy," Flanery demanded.

"It was my idea. I said I'd do it," he ground out. Andrew started to tell him he wasn't obligated to, but Sean just talked over him.

"Tell him what's got you so wound up. Why you're acting like a little bitch right now. This ain't your first rodeo; go on and tell him."

Norman swallowed hard, glancing at Andrew again nervously, "I've never done it with someone watching before. It's... different."

Sean’s hand at the back of Norman’s neck was no longer a harsh grip, to Andrew it looked like he’d begun kneading - pulling Norman forward and massaging at the same time. His tone became more coaxing and less goading, but not by much, “You know, Norman, you did say you would _happily_ blow me, and whoever else I wanted, if my team won - you’re going to have to do a lot better than this if you don’t want to welsh on the bet.”

“ ‘m not welshing on the bet,” Norman grumbled quietly, and glared daggers at Sean. Andrew wondered what the consequences of welshing were if they were bad enough for Norman to be forcing himself to go through with this.

"Well you're going to have to try showing a little more enthusiasm."

Norman's eyes darted to Andrew again, and whatever he saw when he looked at him caused the kneeling man to firm his resolve. For the first time since Andrew had revealed he'd be attending Sean's soirée, Norman deliberately made eye contact with him, and slowly nodded.

Sean's was no longer gripping him by the back of the head, but kneading the his shoulder near the curve of his neck, like a coach getting his fighter ready to enter  ring.

" 's kind of sweet actually. Nervous like this - it reminds me of the first time. Director told us to spend time together, forge a real bond off-screen and it would come through in our chemistry on-screen. Doubt it's what he had in mind, but it worked, huh?"

Norman's focus was back on Sean, he looked none too pleased that his fellow 'Saint' was regaling Andrew with his faux-sentimentality and private details from behind the scenes.

"That dumb slut at the bar we went to claimed only girls were capable of giving good head, and what was it you said to her?"

Norman swallowed hard and mumbled, "Any guy who'd ever gotten one would know better than a gal how to give one. In theory."

"In theory," Sean laughed aloud, "He did, he said that - the 'in theory' bit too." He chuckled some more, turned to Andrew, "She got all bent out of shape and dared him to prove it. She walked off thinking she was the queen of blow jobs when he refused to suck dick in the middle of a crowded bar."

Now Norman was chuckling too, as he recalled the obnoxious woman who'd been angling hard for a three-way with them, but got so distracted by their 'debate' that she'd flounced off alone afterward - as happy as if she'd scored - secure in her delusions, her oral prowess having gone unchallenged.

"We left not long after, because the 300lb bruiser at the next table had heard your 'theory' and he was giving us the stink-eye and kept calling us queers under his breath."

That sounded horrific to Andrew, as he imagined a younger version of his friend first fending off some slag and then being in danger of being bashed for it, but Sean and Norman appeared to find the whole event comical. Americans. Go figure.

"When we got back to the hotel, we raided the mini-bar like kids in a candy shop. And then I dared you to prove your theory."

Andrew wondered if Sean had any idea that he came off sounding like a predator in this story. Plying his younger cast-member with alcohol and manipulating him into performing sexual favors didn’t sound like the actions of a real stand-up kind of a guy - and yet Reedus still worshipped him.

"The alcohol definitely helped," Norman muttered.

"Maybe with inhibitions, but it made for a sloppier suck job. Still would say you would have stolen her crown in a 'head to head' competition." Sean laughed at his own pun.

"I don't think she actually held the title Queen of Blow Jobs - if she did, we really missed out."

"Hey, _I_ got a royal knob gobbling that night. That's what you Brits call it, right?" Norman turned red, and Andrew really wished Sean would stop trying to include him in the conversation, but  it was clear that he didn't want Norman to be able to forget that they had company.

"You were nervous then too, remember? Until you got in to it."  Holding the gaze of the man kneeling in the V of his spread legs, Sean cupped Norman's jaw in his hand and gently swiped at his lower lip with his thumb; Andrew felt the intimacy and affection in the tender gesture was destroyed by Sean's free hand less than stealthy fumbling with his belt.

Andrew took a gulp of the Guinness he was holding, forgetting for a moment that it was Sean's, just needing something to fidget with. Had they been drinking bottled brews, he was sure he'd have shredded the label to a million tiny pulpy pieces by now.

Part of him wanted to tell Norman not to let Sean use him this way; while another part of him wanted to ask Sean what happened to _him_ going first? Most of all, he was tired of sitting here like a mute with this dumbfounded expression on his face.

Sean's story hadn't been much of a turn on, but it hadn't done anything to kill his erection either; however, the concept of Norman actually putting thought into how to do this _and do it well_... that made him so hard he felt like he was going to bust through his flies like Bruce Banner transforming into the Hulk.

Sean's thumb had actually found its way into Norman's mouth now, and was stroking in and out of the wet void very suggestively. With his other hand, Flanery had freed his cock and was fisting its hard length.

Andrew felt overheated as his vision had became spotty and  narrowed, tunnel-like on Norman's mouth. Even though his ears were buzzing (how blood could be rushing in them when it felt like it had all pooled in his groin, he didn't know) he thought he heard the sports commentators, whose disembodied voices sounded far away and not at all like they were coming out of the speakers just a few feet from him, saying excitedly: _"-the tight end got penetration through the defense and pounds it in hard, for the first down!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought there was going to be sex in this chapter? So did I! ...funny how that worked out. 
> 
> Special thanks to LostinWonder for being my sounding-board.
> 
> Extra-special thanks to my friend Kyle who knows that somehow the imitation of a football commentator announcing a first down (heavy on the innuendo) was somehow necessary for the smutty story I'm writing, but he was smart enough not to ask too many questions or ask to read it when I'm done. Gee, guys are helpful when the cause is porn! I'm glad he didn't make me burst his bubble and reveal to him it's **gay** porn, LOL. So: _Thanks, Kyle! You'll never see this, but your help was still appreciated!_
> 
> (now I'm wondering what it says about _me_ that he knew better than to ask...)

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my friend LostinWonder, who gives me so much fun stuff to read :)


End file.
